A Reason to Stay
by Working-On-Sanity
Summary: All the zombie wanted was to stay with the werecat. Even when Yamamoto made it possible for Gokudera to stay, it seemed as though Gokudera would do anything to escape his clammy grasp. 8059. Monster Tamer Tsuna universe.


**Author's Note: **I cannot fully express my love for _Monster Tamer Tsuna. _It's just a bunch of cute and silly fun. I don't really know how such a funny minishow could spawn an idea for a zombie/werecat horror fic. This was a weird idea.

* * *

"Gokudera? What's wrong? Are you... okay?"

Concern fluttered through Yamamoto's eyes as he leaned over the back of the gravestone. His raw elbows pressed against the cold, rough surface. He gently let his hand drop limply to the top of Gokudera's head, rubbing his sore icy fingertips into the rumples of hair.

"Nothing's wrong with me, weirdo," Gokudera said irately, tipping his head to dislodge Yamamoto's prodding hand. He smoothed down his hair and licked his fingers to pat down the stubborn cowlicks.

"Come on," Yamamoto said. "Tell me. Something's made you upset."

"I told you to shut up, Yamamoto." Gokudera sighed in frustration, tugging his legs up to squeeze his thighs against his chest. He curled his long tail around the contour of his hip, and lonesomely rested his chin on his knees. A vague sort of remorse cut through his narrow yellow eyes, and he barely acknowledged Yamamoto's presence as Yamamoto stepped from behind the gravestone to sit down beside him. The loose threads along the hem of Yamamoto's frayed baseball uniform tickled Gokudera's bare skin. He shivered.

"Don't get so close to me. You stink." Gokudera edged away from Yamamoto, shoving his hand against Yamamoto's shoulder to push him away. Rather than sulk over Gokudera's sour attitude, Yamamoto laughed cheerfully, tucking his arm around Gokudera's middle to draw him closer.

"You don't smell that great, either," he said teasingly, rubbing his thumb along the dips between Gokudera's ribs. "You smell kind of like fish."

Gokudera pinned his large ears to his scalp in annoyance, a snarl tugging the corners of his pale lips downward. "Maybe because that's what I had for dinner?"

Yamamoto pulled Gokudera nearer, nudging the tip of his nose into the curve of his neck. He inhaled, and deeply sighed against Gokudera's skin, his cold breath skimming down the collar of Gokudera's baggy sweater.

"No matter how bad you smell, I still like it when you come down to stay here with me," Yamamoto said sheepishly, leaning away. Gokudera blew a gust of air into his cheeks, looking away.

"Yeah, well... don't get used to it."

Yamamoto's smile hung in place, but sparkles of shock crackled through his dull eyes. "What?"

"Don't get used to it, Yamamoto." Gokudera sighed, letting his chin fall to rest on his knees. "I know you're lonely and all that, but... I can't just _live _here in this raunchy graveyard."

Yamamoto stared at the cool gray ground. His lips thinned into a flat line. "Why?"

Surprised by this answer, Gokudera raised his head. He squinted at Yamamoto through his shaggy bangs.

"Why, Gokudera?" Yamamoto slowly turned to look at Gokudera. His neck cracked sharply, but Yamamoto seemed not to notice. "I like spending time with you. You're my friend. My best friend. Why can't you stay? It's not like you have anywhere else to go."

For some time, Gokudera remained silent. He was always loud and easily upset and lost his temper at the slightest provocation. To see him subdued and quiet made Yamamoto's chest tighten with worry and anger.

"Yamamoto," he said at last, "I'm a monster. And it's just plain logic that everyone wants to catch monsters. Tame 'em." He cut a sidelong glance at Yamamoto. "You're a monster. What makes you believe that a Tamer won't come for you?"

"You're afraid, aren't you?" Yamamoto said. He watched Gokudera sadly. "You're afraid of being caught. Gokudera, that's something that doesn't need to––"

"_No_," Gokudera said. "I am _not _afraid. Why should I be?" He tossed his head snobbishly. "I'm a werecat, not a wimpy kitten. They call us monsters for a reason. I could rip to shreds any idiot that comes after me."

The bragging bravado had little effect on Yamamoto, who only smiled ruefully. "Monster Tamers don't come out this far often. You're more at risk of being caught in the woodland."

"That's not the issue, here, Yamamoto," Gokudera said with cutting sarcasm. "Get it through your thick head. This is a graveyard. This is practically a breeding ground for vampires and witches and zombies and ghosts and everything else that Monster Tamers dream of. That means this is where they'll come first. I don't _want _to be somebody's pet, Yamamoto. And even a stupid stink like you should have enough sense to understand that."

Yamamoto gazed vaguely into the distance. The moonlight angled off his glassy eyes and scruffy hair, leaving behind a pearly glow. He seemed so pensive that Gokudera felt foolish for his outburst. Gokudera stared at his hands guiltily.

"You know that I would never let that happen," said Yamamoto at last. His tone wavered, and Gokudera snapped upright. A smile tilted Yamamoto's mouth.

"You're the only one I have left, you know. Why would I let anyone capture you to take you away? When a person has one special thing that he cares about, you can bet that he'll protect it until he goes down."

The words fell heavily in the night.

Tightening his hands into fists, Gokudera slumped. He sighed, and his shoulders drooped, as if he no longer had the will to argue.

"I just can't stay here, Yamamoto."

Silence dragged on. It seemed as though hours crawled past before Yamamoto stiffly pushed himself to his feet. He teetered, the frayed edges of his uniform trailing in the breeze. He extended a clammy gray hand to Gokudera.

"Come here. I want to show you something."

Gokudera thrust Yamamoto's hand away, bristling, and stood. Wet grass prickled at his ankles as he slogged after Yamamoto through the overgrown weeds. Whenever Yamamoto took a step, bare bone rubbed against bare bone, filling the air with nauseating creaks and groans. Yamamoto's arm grazed the rough edge of a tombstone, and strips of decaying flesh peeled away. Gokudera felt sick.

"Where are we going?" he said quietly, swatting at a low vine that dangled from the dew-flecked weeping willow. He pinned his ears when Yamamoto gave no reply.

They threaded their way through the graveyard sluggishly. Owls cooed overhead. Bats fluttered by, screeching wildly, their scalloped wings beating the breeze. Gokudera held out his hands, groping along the iron fence. Crabgrass brushed against his knees, whispering as he stepped over it.

A murky cloud scuttled over the moon, blotting out all light except for a few strands. The thin beams of silver caught the marble gravestones, making them gleam like broken teeth sticking up from the cold earth. Gokudera tightened his back against a shudder. Yamamoto's home had never before been so haunting.

"Yamamoto?" Gokudera swallowed back the sting in his throat and quickened his pace, trampling both grass and grave in his haste. He put out his hand, closing his fingers around Yamamoto's shoulder. His claws sank into the mushy flesh.

"We're here," Yamamoto said, his hoarse voice low. Gokudera's ears tipped forward to catch the hint of a smile in Yamamoto's words.

"What is it, Ya––" Gokudera grunted when Yamamoto swung out an arm, his elbow knocking painfully into Gokudera's chest.

"Don't step closer. You'll fall."

An unexplainable chill made Gokudera's tail frizz. He cautiously leaned over, squinting, and his heart sank low beneath his ribs.

A pit gaped before him. Piles of gray earth surrounded its perfectly even edges. Fog sparkled on the dirt. It smelled rich. Fresh. It was new earth.

A cold blackness began to eat upwards from Gokudera's stomach. He wrapped his hand around Yamamoto's elbow, breathing deeply.

It was a grave.

Nobody used this graveyard anymore.

It was his grave.

Gokudera stood numbly, staring into the blackness. Shadows oozed down the sides of the pit, dripping deep inside.

Wordlessly, Yamamoto wrapped his chilly arms around Gokudera, drawing him close. Yamamoto rubbed his nose into Gokudera's hair and raked his clumsy fingers down Gokudera's neck. Stunned by fright, Gokudera slowly curled his fingers into Yamamoto's ribs, clutching at his thin shirt.

His face against Yamamoto's chest, Gokudera began to feel a weakness creep over him. His ears drooped. He sagged against Yamamoto, a long thin breath hissing past his lips.

"It's okay, Gokudera," Yamamoto said. He nudged the crook of his bruised finger under Gokudera's chin, tipping up his head to gaze earnestly into the dull eyes, frozen wide open. Yamamoto bent over, touching his hollow white cheek to Gokudera's soft one.

"I'll take care of you," he said, a smile quirking his colorless lips.

An inky purple cloud crawled over the moon, immersing the cemetery in darkness.


End file.
